


Home Invasion

by VoiceOfNurse



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: 5 Times, Bedrooms, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Inspired by Art, Late Night Conversations, Newton Needs a Hug, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoiceOfNurse/pseuds/VoiceOfNurse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or Five Times Newt Broke Into Hermann's Room, and The One Time Hermann Broke Into Newton's Room First.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lovely sohoartist, who drew me some amazing fanart. I totally blame her for getting me hooked on writing these boys.

At first, Hermann was unable to place what had woken him. His room was still dark, and the illuminated hands of his alarm clock confirmed that it was still the middle of the night. He was not in pain, nor did he need to relieve himself, the Shatterdome was as quiet as it ever was and he couldn't remember dreaming of anything. In short, there was no logical reason for his sudden return to wakefulness. 

"-so, I was thinking we could play cards." 

The startled jump and shriek that Newton's voice prompted from Hermann was undignified in the extreme, but he felt at least partially justified in his reaction, given the sudden materialisation of the man at the foot of his bed. Newton, damn the man, didn't even pause for breath and continued the conversation he had apparently been having with Hermann since before he'd even woken up. 

"We could bring a table in and-" 

"Newton! This is my bedroom!" Stating the obvious was equally undignified, but given the circumstances and the fact that he had been awake for less than thirty seconds and already Newton was proving himself insufferable, it was hardly surprising. 

Newton had the gall to look baffled for a moment. "Uh, yeah, obviously. I know what a bedroom looks like, Hermann. I have one too. Anyway, like I was saying, I think we should totally play cards. I even brought a deck with me, see." He had, in fact, brought a deck of cards with him, although the suspicious staining that was visible even in the dim light spilling from the bathroom made Hermann doubt that they were sanitary enough to touch, let alone play with. It also did not explain why Newton was standing beside his bed at a quarter to four in the morning, brandishing a deck of cards and obviously expecting Hermann to understand what he was blathering on about. 

"Congratulations, you understand what a bedroom is. That does not in any way explain what you are doing in MY bedroom at this ridiculous hour, or why you thought it in any way appropriate to break into my quarters in the first place." There was a definite snap in Hermann's tone, despite his best efforts to keep his voice down to an aggressive hiss; just because Newton thought it was acceptable to wake up his neighbours did not mean that Hermann was buying into his lack of manners any time soon.

Rather than looking in any way cowed by what should have been a stern dressing-down, Newton just smiled and waved a hand as if to brush the conversation away. "Oh, I picked the lock, but that's not important right now. And I told you why I was here, man, weren't you paying attention? I thought we could play cards." 

"At twelve minutes to four in the morning?" Dry didn't even begin to describe Hermann's tone, but Newton seemed as impervious as ever. He did, however, cast a faintly puzzled look at the clock. 

"Shit, would you look at that. I thought it was earlier. Doesn't matter though; I can't sleep, and I'm bored, but I'm too tired to actually work, so I was sitting in the lab thinking 'what am I going to do for the next fuck knows how long?', and then it comes to me. You're a mathematician, and you have the most amazing frown in the world, dude. Like, nothing changes your face. They serve pasta in the canteen? Your face is like- frown. Kaiju trashes the city? Frown. The showers actually have hot water for once? Still with the frown." 

Now that he was looking more closely, Hermman could clearly see the dark shadows under his fellow scientist's eyes and the trembling hands that Newton was trying to hide by clutching at his soiled and dog-eared deck of cards. The man was pale, scatterbrained and undeniably manic; Hermann found himself suddenly grateful that Newton had chosen to invade his room rather than remain in the lab. He had a habit of leaping to life-threatening tangents and attempting the impossible (and likely fatal) when exhausted and left to his own devices. 

"Newton, what on earth does this have to do with the deck of cards that you are currently strangling? Because at the moment all that you have succeeded in doing is insulting my face." 

"No, no, man, I was saying that you have an amazing poker face! I already told you, we should totally play cards. They do late night poker, right? And you'd obviously be scarily good at it, so I was thinking that we should totally play." 

Newton was ridiculous, utterly, unforgivably ridiculous. But he was also exhausted and reaching out in what had to be the safest way possible, given his track record when it came to inventing borderline insanity and leaving it (and himself) lying around the lab when he finally fell asleep into whatever he was tinkering with. Here, at least, Hermann would be able to manage his erratic co-worker's more irresponsible urges, and there was very little in his quarters that Newton would be able to cause havoc with. 

Which was why, at four in the morning, when they were both expected to report to Marshall Pentecost at 0700, Hermann found himself reaching out and carefully extracting the cards from Newton's grip before he could destroy them further. He made a mental note to thoroughly decontaminate his hands later; the cards were sticky. 

"Oh, for heaven's sake, give those to me, and get yourself a chair, you stupid man. I won't have you looming over me all night." 

Hermann's feeling of triumph when, almost an hour later, he looked up from his cards to be met with Newton's soft snores, was not something he would readily admit to. However, if forced to explain it, he would likely claim that it was down to his winning hand, rather than any satisfaction at seeing Newton finally asleep. The fact that he presented their findings alone and made some excuse or other to the Marshall as to Newton's absence? Self preservation. Newton was intolerable when in Pentecost's bad graces. 

It certainly wasn't because he liked the man.


	2. Scientific Discovery (or the lack of it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two incidences do not make a pattern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks must go to the lovely Immy, who poked me with a stick until I got this done. And, of course, sohoartist, who sent me the loveliest fan-mail.

 

Two occurrences could never be classed as a pattern, but the second time Hermann awoke unexpectedly to be greeted by Newton's manic chatter triggered the suspicion in him all the same. From a mathematical standpoint, attempting to predict a trend from two events was nothing short of scandalous. Newton, however, was nothing if not a poor mathematician, and he always had possessed an uncanny knack of bending the universe's rules to suit him, rather than vice-versa.  

It was likely said uncanny ability that prevented Hermann's typical response to an uninvited presence in his bedroom, as instead of insisting on Newton's immediate departure from his quarters, he simply rolled over to look at the man. Unlike the last time Newton had practised breaking and entering, he wasn't actually talking to Hermann specifically. Instead, he was pacing back and forth between the bed and the door, muttering agitatedly. Hermann had seen him in a similar state in their shared lab, when he was either on the cusp of a discovery or bordering on manic frustration, but he was at a loss to explain why the man had chosen to do it in Hermann's bedroom, of all things. 

"Newton," he sighed, when it became apparent that his late-night visitor wasn't going to pause in his tirade, and seemed quite set on increasing in volume. "Loath as I am to ask questions to which there will be no satisfactory answer, I have to know: what on earth are you doing in my quarters this time?" Surely he didn't expect another poker match? 

"Because I can't  _think_!" Not a poker match, then... the agitation in Newton's voice was far more acute than Hermann had assumed, which meant settling him into a state where he could be persuade to leave would likely be something of an undertaking. He glanced at the clock, very nearly wincing when he saw the time. Not only did it confirm Newton's terrible habit of working himself up to a lather at the worst possible moments, but it also suggested that the biologist had had several hours with which to work himself up to such a state. 

"And breaking into my quarters to pace a track in my floor helps with this in some way?" There was no point in trying to be kind; Newton would baulk at the perception of pity, which would only serve to aggravate him further. After so long working in close quarters, Hermann was, at the very least, familiar with Newton's fits of pique, wide and varied as they were. Though over time he had come to accept that drawing up a predictive model for Kaiju appearance was a far more achievable goal than figuring out when Newton's (admittedly keen) intellect would turn against him; he had given up trying after approximately two years of working together. 

"No, Hermann, it doesn't help in the bloody slightest, but I had to get out of the lab before I gave into temptation and took a hammer to everything that insists on sitting there and  _mocking me_. Because God forbid I damage one of Pentecost's precious assets!" Newton looked very much like he wanted to kick something; Hermann was suddenly thankful for the utilitarian nature of his quarters and the sturdiness of his furniture; he had no desire to see Newton taking his anger out on something breakable, despite the potential cathartic effects of doing so.      

Carefully, Hermann worked himself up until his back was rested uncomfortably against the wall at the head of his bed; there was no point in standing, given that Newton's pacing was taking up the majority of the room, and curtailing him now would likely serve to annoy him to even greater heights. "And what, exactly, is wrong with your collection of entrails this time?" 

"Wrong with them?  _Wrong with them_?!  _Everything_  is wrong with them, Hermann! They're shit! They are complete and utter fucking shit, and Pentecost knows it but  _still_  expects me to pull a miracle out of my ass every other day!  Every time he comes into the lab, every time he sends me a fucking memo, it's demanding a way to kill them, demanding I explain their weaknesses, demanding that I  _understand_  them, when all he ever gives me to work with is shit!"  

Newton did not appear to be calming down, in fact, the exact opposite seemed to be taking place; his movements were becoming more erratic by the moment, and if his volume continued to increase in similar increments, Hermann predicted that he would be screaming in less than three minutes. For the sake of his peace and quiet, he strove to cut Newton off before he could get any worse. 

"The samples aren't good enough? That's the problem?" He thought he was beginning to understand where Newton was coming from, but it was difficult to be sure with so little information, especially coupled as it was with anger and frustration. 

Unfortunately, Newton did not react as Hermann had predicted; rather than pausing in his tirade, he ramped up both the volume and the furious nature of his gesticulation. "The samples are appalling! Every time _,_  I get presented with some mutilated, irradiated  _bullshit_  and he expects me to make some amazing discovery from it! And every single time I don't immediately hand him a way of killing them, he gives me this look of fucking  _disappointment_. As if anyone else could do better! I can't make a major scientific discovery from cast-off  _crap_!"

It probably would have been funny, to see Newton ripping at his hair and stamping his feet,but the near agonised tone that had crept into his voice leached any humour from the situation. The man sounded seconds away from bursting into angry tears. 

"Newton..." Hermann was in no way 'good' at dealing with the feelings and emotional needs of others, but in the case of Newton he had at least had extensive practice. That was not to say that he could ever be certain of how to proceed when faced with such a situation, but he was at least secure in the belief that, should he make a catastrophic mess of the situation, Newton would never mention it again. 

The man in question paused for a moment to fix Hermann with a fierce stare. "Don't you fucking 'Newton' me, Hermann! As if you have any fucking idea what I'm talking about in the first place! Pentecost's fucking favourite. Can do no wrong, with your numbers and your certainties and being able to fucking prove everything just the way he wants it. Well  _I'm sorry,_  but I can't code him a killer robot with my amazing brain!" 

That was actually almost flattering, despite the manner of delivery, but Hermann was in no way vain or insecure enough to leave Newton in such a state for the sake of a potential compliment. Instead, he made a careful prediction of Newton's scattered path around his room and used the resulting data to stand and capture the smaller man into his arms as he passed the bed. 

It was not in any way comfortable, given the unwanted pressure on his leg and the initial, instinctive struggles of his newly-contained companion, but Hermann was pleased to note that, even angry as he was, Newton made no effort to hurt him. In fact, there was a high probability that he was limiting his movements to prevent that very outcome. 

"There." Hermann tightened his hold a fraction, thin arms pressed tightly across tense shoulders. Newton appeared to be holding his breath, his face turned pointedly to one side, but it was a start. Hermann rarely allowed physical contact with others, but in Newton's case (on special occasions) he was willing to make an exception. "Now, take a deep breath." 

He was rewarded with an irate sound, but Newton wasn't fighting to free himself, which was a start. "Deep breath, Newton. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist upon it." Hermann didn't put it past the man to hold his breath into a faint simply to be contrary. Thankfully, he was rewarded by a short, sharp inhale, followed by an angry huff. It was better than nothing. Pressed so close, he could feel the fine tremors working their way through Newton's body; it was impossible to tell if they were caused by exhaustion, anger, or the suppression of tears, but whatever their reason, Hermann was met by the sudden and all-consuming desire to see him rid of them. 

It took the space of another shaking breath on Newton's part for Hermann to brush away the unwanted feeling to be categorised later. Now was not the time to analyse this potential breech in his self-inflicted solitude. "That's better. Now, can you tell me, calmly, what is irritating you quite so badly, so that we can fix it and I can get back to sleep?"  

"I don't even know any more." There was a hateful note of defeat in Newton's tone that Hermann wanted gone almost as badly as the trembling. Despite their many disagreements, he had never classed Newton as anything but the foremost mind in his chosen field; there was something alarming about the loss of his habitual arrogance. "I don't even know what they expect me to  _do_." 

Hermann was suddenly forced to brace himself as a measure of the tension drained out of Newton, leaving the smaller man with his face pressed into Hermann's shoulder. He spared a moment's thought to the fate of Newton's glasses, which did not appear to be anywhere on his person. Given the sheer level of manic energy that Newton had brought into Hermann's quarters, there was a high likelihood that a spare set would have to be located once Newton calmed down and started to miss them. Despite the trouble it would almost certainly end up causing, Hermann could sympathise; it was hatefully difficult to be angry in glasses, and Newton's first instinct when reaching such a volcanic level of temper was to rip them from his face and throw them. 

"They expect everything from you. The world is at stake, and failure is not an option. That does not make it easy, but surely even you understand that nothing worthwhile ever is?" Hermann pressed a hand to the back of Newton's head, keeping him down and quiet. The constriction seemed to calm him, where it likely would have sent Hermann spiralling off into an anxious rage, should their positions have been reversed. In this case, the removal of options, of control, from Newton seemed to settle him. 

The slight tensing of Newton's shoulders suggested that Hermann might have said something he didn't like, but the fact remained that it was something he needed to hear. Hermann understood; the pressure, the expectation, the absolutely madding realisation that the whole world was resting on them, and they had hardly any tools with which to get the results they so desperately needed. He could empathise with Newton in this, where so much else was a mystery to him, because in this they were the same. It was vitally important that Newton understood that, and was able to continue. 

"I don't feel like I've come up with anything worthwhile right now, Hermann. Pentecost-" 

"Oh damn the man! Newton, he is a  _soldier_ , not a scientist, which is a point I vividly remember you making to me on numerous occasions. It is practically in his job description to expect more than you can ever realistically achieve from you, but that does not mean that you are in any way obligated to tear yourself to pieces over it. The world is at stake, and we all want this finished as quickly as possible, but there are limitations that we all have to face. You are not a machine, Newton, and even if you were, I think we have all faced the reality that they are just as fallible as any other method we use to try and destroy these creatures."  

"Then why is it  _always_ me that gets the short end of his stick?" Despite the petulant nature of the reply, Hermann was actually reassured. He cuffed Newton lightly on the shoulder. 

"Don't be arrogant, Newton. It is nowhere close to 'always you'." 

"Yeah, well it bloody well feels like it." 

Reasonably confident that Newton was not going to fly straight back off of the handle again, Hermann gently retracted his hold, and settled for placing his hands on Newton's shoulders so that he could look at the man. It was not a reassuring picture; Newton's face was a nasty mixture of grey-pale and blotchy; his expression was faintly lost. "Not to put too fine a point on the matter, Newton... but you have obviously been awake and worrying about this problem for a number of hours. Perhaps it would be wise to take a break, play one of your ridiculous video games, or whatever it is you do when you're not distracting me at work. The chances are that when you return to the problem in the morning, it will seem less daunting." 

Newton had the audacity to frown at him. "Are you actually suggesting that I do something  _fun_? Hermann, dude, I didn't think you had it in you?" Now that was more like the Newton he loved to hate; Hermann couldn't resist the slightest twitch of a smile. 

"Anything to get you out of my room, Newton. Some of us cannot subside on caffeine alone. As a biologist, you should know that. Not to mention the fact that I would very much like to get back to sleep before dawn." 

"Hermann, all this talk of needing your beauty sleep makes you sound like my Grandfather. As if the old man pyjamas weren't bad enough..."  

"Oh for goodness' sake." Hermann let Newton go, pushing at him in feigned annoyance. "Get of my room, you disgraceful man. I will not have you tarnishing it any longer with your appalling lack of formality." He shook his head, smile smothered behind a frown. "Just because some of us sleep in jeans..." 

Newton grinned, once again surprising Hermann with the sheer speed that he could pull himself together. There was still a shadow of unpleasantness lingering in his eyes, but Hermann was in no way a miracle worker and they  _were_ facing the end of the world. "Hey, whatever's clean, dude." 

The care with which Newton was backing towards the door suggested that he had finally started to miss his glasses, but he managed to avoid falling over his own feet, for which Hermann was eternally thankful; he was in no position to be helping anyone off of the floor. "The state of your laundry appalls me..." 

"'least I have style, man." Newton's words were made even less poignant by his bumping into the door-frame. Hermann repressed a snort of amusement as he settled back down into his bed. 

"Style... Is that so?"

Having finally managed to get the door open, Newton glared at him from the threshold and, in a gesture of completely characteristic childishness, stuck out his tongue. "Whatever, man." 

Hermann shook his head, noting with a faint smile that Newton actually took the time to lock his door again on the way out. Hopefully, he would be completely back to normal again in the morning, and they would never have to talk about this again.  


	3. Lonliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory three-in-the-morning I'll hate this later chapter.

For all that Newton was erratic to a fault, when presented with a boundary he would be compelled to test it until utterly rebuffed. He was also loud. Which was why, when Hermann woke up in the night with the pressing need to relieve himself, he was shocked beyond measure to find Newton sitting quietly in the corner, playing on some form of archaic hand-held games console. 

After a moment Hermann pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, still half asleep and almost convinced that he was dreaming. Tired as he was, Hermann found it spectacularly difficult to care what Newton was doing, or whether he existed at all, and instead hobbled through to the bathroom to answer the call of nature, half hoping that his room would be blessedly empty when he returned so that he could go back to sleep. 

Unfortunately, by the time he was finished Hermann's mind was kicking back into gear, and Newton was still slouched up against the wall with his games console resting on his folded knees. Strangely, Newton still remained engrossed, even as Hermann picked his way back across the room, though the stiffness of his shoulders suggested the action to be deliberate. 

Well, two could play at that game. Rather than snatching up his cane and beating the infuriating man for once again breaking into his room, Hermann chose instead to settle himself back down onto the mattress and roll over, presenting his back to Newton. There was a rustle from across the room, and Hermann smiled; some things remained constant, it would seem, even in the face of late night strangeness. 

The soft tap of buttons that would normally be associated with Newton actually playing the game he had brought with him remained suspiciously absent. Good, he had the man's attention. Now, all he had to do was wait...

"Hey, Hermann...?" Newton Geiszler, predictable as always. 

There was a cutting remark poised on Hermann's tongue, but he chose not to voice it. For all that the quiet was slightly concerning, he had no real desire to exchange it for an argument. Instead, he heaved a slightly exaggerated sigh. "Yes, Newton?" 

He was met with further silence, broken only by another soft shuffling sound as Newton changed position. The man was rarely still, at the best of times, and the floor was both cold and uncomfortable, so it was difficult to assess whether the movement was a nervous gesture, or simply Newton being his normal restless self. 

Finally, just as Hermann was debating rolling over to see what the matter was, Newton continued. "Well... I was sort of, maybe, planning to be gone before you woke up, but now that you're, you know, awake, I was just wondering- well. If I could stay? Just for a bit, you know?" 

That was actually borderline concerning. It was not completely unlike Newton to stumble over himself while speaking (in fact, it was practically the norm), but the slight hesitance in his tone was unusual. 

"You have already broken into my room, for the third time, no less. Why on earth are you asking for permission now? If you intend to stay, there is very little I can do to remove you without resorting to physical force, which is a fact that we are both quite aware of. You certainly never asked for permission before." 

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Hermann found himself swamped by a hot sense of discomfort. By unspoken agreement, the previous times Newton had appeared unannounced in his quarters after dark had gone unmentioned, to spare embarrassment on both their parts. Newton, for all his brash exuberance, did not take well to having his weaknesses discussed, and Hermann himself found discussion of emotional topics awkward to the point of physical pain. 

Fortunately, Newton did not seem inclined to start an argument or (thank heavens) a heart-to-heart. Instead, he made a shuffling sound that might have been a shrug, and tapped his fingers on the floor. "Well, yeah, I know. But it's different, because normally you pull this fantastic face when you find me somewhere you don't want me to be, and right now you're just... going back to sleep. I don't want to just- invite myself in, refuse to leave, and watch you sleep. That'd be weird, man. So... can I stay?" 

"So you are uncomfortable with the idea of breaking in to watch me sleep, so instead you are asking for permission?" Only Newton could come up with such a strange statement at eight minutes past one in the morning. It said something about Hermann that he wasn't even surprised, however. 

Newton, for his part, spluttered around an indignant squawk, which brought a smile unbidden to Hermann's face. There was nothing quite so satisfying as prodding Newton's ire, and his predictable reaction went a long way to assuaging Hermann's concern for his wellbeing. 

"Dude, no! That's weird. That is so weird. I didn't break in here to watch you sleep! That's what I was saying!" 

Hermann very nearly laughed. "Then do, pray, enlighten me Newton. Because at the present I fail to comprehend the purpose for your visit." 

"I didn't come in here to watch you sleep, if that's what you're thinking. I just sort of- came in here." 

"And the reason for this visit was...?" 

Newton breathed out in a sharp huff, and when he spoke there was a note of defensiveness in his voice that suggested a growing sense of awkwardness. "I was bored, okay? I'm not tired yet, and there's nothing I can really do in the lab because the delivery's not scheduled for tomorrow evening, and there was nobody worth talking to in the mess hall." 

Hermann was not the most adept when it came to reading people, but working in close quarters with Newton for a number of years had granted him considerable insight. Enough, certainly, to know when the man was lonely. 

"Well, it seems that I will be saddled with you for the foreseeable future, then." He said with a put-upon sigh, while rigorously telling himself that it was not compassion that he was showing, simply a healthy fear of what Newton would do if ejected back into the Shatterdome and left to his own devices. 

"You love me really. I make your life interesting." Newton certainly did that. Hermann spared a glance across the room before settling down and making himself comfortable. 

"You certainly prevent me from getting a moment's peace. That said, I have no intention of staying awake all night simply because you have chosen to lay claim to my room. You are welcome to stay, Newton, but do not expect me to entertain you." 

"Nah, dude, it's cool." Something rattled, likely Newton's games console. "Single player. And you're way more entertaining in your sleep than the rest of those assholes are awake." 

One thing that Newton could never be accused of was having a way with words, but his backhanded compliment made Hermann smile all the same. "I live to please," he said, sure to inject as much dryness into his tone as possible. "Now do be quiet."

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by the talented sohoartist: http://sohoartist.tumblr.com/image/63827504808


End file.
